Multiple drafts

 August 12, 2020

In the past three weeks I have heard two writers whose books I liked a bunch -- The Dutch House and Untamed -- say that they wrote these books twice.  Ann Patchett said that she wrote The Dutch House and then got to the end, realized it was horrible, and started over.  The interviewer (Gretchen Rubin) asked her, “What was good in the book in that first draft?”  

“The best thing in the book,” said Patchett, “was that no one had to read such a horrible book.”

Then she rewrote the entire novel and got it published to rave reviews.

Today I heard Glennon Doyle talking about her book Untamed with Brene Brown.  Brene Brown admired the structure of the book, acknowledging the cleverness of the structure that was still somewhat untamed, matching the structure to the main idea.  Glennon Doyle told her something like this, “Actually, I wrote Untamed twice.  I wrote it once and thought that it was good enough. Then Elizabeth Gilbert read it. She pointed out that I was writing something untamed in a tame structure.  It wouldn’t fit.”  

She sat down and reworked the entire book.

I’m reading Waking Up White this week.  In the Acknowledgements at the end, Debby Irving thanks one person, who offered to read the book right before Irving sent it to the publisher.  She writes something like, “Two years and eighty-two one-hour phone calls later, the book was ready.”

I don’t know how many times I’ll need to rewrite my story.

That’s okay.

In the end, I’ll be able to laugh like these women, getting a kick out of the process no matter how many drafts it takes.

Anne Lamott reminds me that there is no end, that publishing a book is not the end-all, be-all, crowing triumph of writing that writers expect. I've changed my goal of publishing a book: my goal now is to write a book. Write it for myself. A whole book. One that I like and that I think is even better than good enough. (When I'm honest with myself, I know the difference between my work that is good enough and good.) I'll complete it, draft after draft after draft. I'll have a completed version and feel good that I did it, that I actually finished writing an entire book.

If I feel so motivated, I'll find a way to submit it to a publisher or a hundred publishers. And maybe something else will happen then. Maybe. But if it doesn't, that's okay. I will have fulfilled my dream to myself, to write a book.

In the past I've felt envious of people I know who have published books -- I've felt excited, thrilled, proud for them, yes, but truthfully, envious, too. A friend recently sent me a link to a memoir published by someone that graduated from college with us. Pangs of jealousy: The Austen Years. I looked it up, read part of it online.

Two weeks later a different friend dropped off a book for me for my week of beach vacation. (This friend routinely purchases books from independent sellers and lends them to me before she has even read them herself, her generosity and spirit astounding.) I ran downstairs to see what book she had left on the dining room table: The Austen Years. I couldn't believe it. She knows I like Austen, and she has encouraged me to write a book about my own experiences: hence her sharing The Austen Years. I laugh on the phone to her about this coincidence.

She says, "Will it be too hard for you to read?"

"I don't know," I tell her. "It looks good, so I'll probably read it. Or maybe it will get me to write."

I bring the book on the vacation. I haven't started it. But I've made a pact with myself: for every day that I do not read this book, this book that I'm 95% sure is solidly good and interesting and smart, I must write for at least one hour.

Getting the butt in the chair by any means necessary.